


Miss. Inkblot

by grapelady



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Black Belt Chuu, F/F, Jock Jinsoul, They Stuck, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-23 09:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21317944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapelady/pseuds/grapelady
Summary: If some poor soul had told Jinsoul she would be trapped on a broken elevator during what was supposed to be the most significant game of her high school lacrosse career with a penguin suit-clad (and longtime crush) Kim Jiwoo, she would have steered them to wherever the creative writing class meets. But reality is unpredictable and unforgiving. And whatever mystery hat the universe just pulled names and scenarios out of, Jinsoul’s not sure. But the current unlucky situation the two girls have found themselves in is certainly real—really real.It’s a tragedy, too. Worn-in blue cleats should currently be planted on damp grass not unwillingly rooted on the cold vinyl flooring of the cramped second-floor elevator. Man, Jinsoul’s coach is seriously gonna murder her with an axe.
Relationships: Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul/Kim Jiwoo | Chuu
Comments: 39
Kudos: 244





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had most of this written for months and never posted it...but better late than never RIGHT????  
For all the Chuusoul enthusiasts and the #1 Chuusoul fan, Miss Marina  
Hope u all like it a lil

If some poor soul had told Jinsoul she would be trapped on a broken elevator during what was supposed to be the most significant game of her high school lacrosse career with a penguin suit-clad (and longtime crush) Kim Jiwoo, she would have steered them to wherever the creative writing class meets. But reality is unpredictable and unforgiving. And whatever mystery hat the universe just pulled names and scenarios out of, Jinsoul’s not sure. But the current unlucky situation the two girls have found themselves in is certainly real—really real.

It’s a tragedy, too. Worn-in blue cleats should currently be planted on damp grass _not _unwillingly rooted on the cold vinyl flooring of the cramped second-floor elevator. Man, Jinsoul’s coach is seriously gonna murder her with an axe.

She’s not even sure how it happened. Twenty minutes ago, she was heading to the field with her teammates when she realized she forgot her lucky game socks in her backpack, which she conveniently left on the other side of the school in her locker…on the second floor. She didn’t get on the elevator then—no, she agilely double-hopped up the stairs, swiftly grabbed her backpack, and traded her dull white slightly-too-snug socks for her lucky red and purple mismatched ones. Honestly, they’re _more_ than socks to her. Woven inside the fabric and elastic contains Jinsoul’s confidence, her spirit, her _three-time girls’ lacrosse championship title _she believes is owed almost exclusively to them. Superstition is a hell of a drug when you’re literally unbeatable.

But for some reason, either because her subconscious was guiding her to conserve her energy or because she figured it would be faster (she truly has no clue), she decided to take the elevator back down.

The hallways were pretty dead considering school was over and anyone who _was _left was already waiting for the championship game to start. So, not only was it weird to see someone else also heading into the elevator, but the person was encased in a penguin suit which, like, double weird. Not weird because of the _penguin suit_, but weird because the school mascot should have already been entertaining and hyping up the crowd outside.

Jinsoul, her mind looping through her usual internal pre-game pep talk, didn’t care to question it and since the small individual in the suit just stood silently in the corner of the elevator, she figured their run-in would be a non-thing. A fleeting encounter that would go forgotten amongst the general hubbub of her day.

Boy, was she wrong.

It was like a scene out of the worst (and dumbest because of the whole quiet penguin stranger) horror flick when the elevator, after dropping probably two feet silently powered off without even a hint of warning. Before Jinsoul could begin to question the unfortunate turn of events and pitch dark, the single emergency light on the wall turned on and it was dead quiet. No mechanical whirring, no machine-driven dings, not even the sound of human breathing entered her ears. She was stuck in a broken-down elevator on the most important afternoon of her life with what, due to the circumstances, rapidly became a _creepy _penguin mascot, and had no idea what to do. Accepting her fate wasn’t an option. So, with a dry disbelieving laugh, she cool-headedly pressed any button she could see. And after nothing occurred, Jinsoul realized the gravity of the situation.

Everything after that happened too fast yet too slowly. Her movements unknowingly became frantic, her heart began banging in her chest, and a high-pitched voice behind her suddenly chirped out and sent a chill through her jumpy body.

_“Crap balls.” _

Any other time and Jinsoul would have thought the voice was cute. And for anybody else in the world, the comically absurd comment would probably have provided some comfort and comedic relief, but all Jinsoul felt was _sick. _She was going to be murdered by some adorable penguin mascot _girl _and she didn’t even have her lacrosse stick to put up a fight.

She remembers turning around and seeing a pair of flippers reach up and pull off the nightmarishly large penguin head. And she’ll never forget the stomach-sinking, heart-fluttering, flop-sweat-inducing feeling of realizing who had been hiding under it.

Kim Jiwoo. As if fate couldn’t have been any meaner.

The girl, despite her pressed-down, messy hair and a thin sheen of sweat coating her face, looked as pretty as Jinsoul remembered her. They didn’t really know each other and had never spoken more than a couple sentences here and there, but the tiny girl held a very special, very long-lived place in Jinsoul’s heart. She was a year below her and Jinsoul remembers even back as a sophomore feeling embarrassed at her feelings; crushing on a freshman was considered a big social no-no—a total dork move. But as the years went on, her secret feelings only grew stronger and while their current respective roles as high school senior and junior should have given Jinsoul the implicit permission to go for it, their vastly different school personas always made her hesitate. And those personas were clearly displayed in their disparate attires.

Jinsoul’s a jock, a popular jock at that—in fact, she’s kind of a big deal at school. They don’t have a football team, so lacrosse takes precedence as the sport of most vital importance. And so, the plebeians fawn at her feet, her teachers even more so due to how seamlessly she balances both athletics _and _academics. And Jiwoo, well everyone seems to like the girl, but despite injecting herself in just about every extracurricular activity that exists, nobody particularly notices her, and the two girls don’t really run in the same circles. It was for these reasons Jinsoul stood in her own way and never pursued whatever it is she and Jiwoo could or would ever be.

But she pined, oh did she ever.

And besides Jinsoul’s best friend and fellow teammate Sooyoung, nobody knew about her pining. The teasing she endured from said best friend (the true most popular girl in school—if not for her fear of being left out and therefore attending any and every rowdy party than for her stunningly good looks) was relentless. Little jabs into the ribs whenever Jiwoo walked past in the hallway, knowing glances spared Jinsoul’s way at every opportunity—hell, Sooyoung even managed to get a selfie with the tiny wonder at one of the school plays, Jiwoo’s big smile making Jinsoul swoon despite knowing that the image sitting in her inbox was only supposed to get under her skin.

So all of this, well, when Sooyoung gets a load of it Jinsoul thinks she’ll be roasted more than the time she was caught by her BFF doing math problems for fun one lazy summer afternoon. Of course, Sooyoung will maintain that she’s nonplussed by the story, her nonchalance is truly a gift, but when Jinsoul least expects it the jabs, the jokes, the reminders—they’ll be frequent. And they’ll sting as much as they’ll make her heart rate pick up. It’s another reason Jinsoul hopes this whole ordeal is over soon. Better to get out before she makes an ass of herself and gives Sooyoung more fodder.

And so here Jinsoul stands, stiffly upright by the door and haphazardly pressing the many buttons as she stares at Jiwoo, wondering if this is some sort of sign from the universe to stop letting high school cliquish politics get in the way of true love.

As if.

She awkwardly looks away every time Jiwoo’s eyes timidly meet her own, and with sweaty palms, pulls her phone out of her shorts pocket.

_4:37._

The game starts at 5:30. If her lucky mismatched socks truly bestow luck upon her, Jinsoul figures they’ll be free soon. Better to feign positivity in the wake of her athletic career—her life, basically—crashing down around her. But her stomach is churning, her foot has started tapping, and her teeth are tugging on her bottom lip for a reason much different than that.

The true reason, of course, is that Kim Jiwoo—rosy cheeks, bright eyes, honey-soaked voice and all—is her unwilling partner in this cursed vertical journey. And her looming presence is both exciting and scaring Jinsoul.

It wouldn’t be as bad to be stuck here if she was by herself. Sure, her mind would suffocate her with images of her inevitable funeral after she dies and rots in this metal box, but at least she would be able to focus.

The fact that this all could have been avoided, Jinsoul’s very aware of. But what was she supposed to do? Imagine if they had lost the game because she had on regular old _white _socks!

God, all in the name of some “lucky” socks. Superstition has never seemed more stupid to her in this moment.

“Should we call 911?”

The voice, that _sweet voice_, catches her off guard, the hairs on her arms shooting up. So off guard in fact, she doesn’t even process the question for a beat. And after a resounding gulp and quick shake of her head to pull her focus back into reality, Jinsoul checks her phone.

No service. Figures.

“I-I don’t have reception in here. Do you?”

“Oh, uh…hold on,” Jiwoo responds, not-so-smoothly shaking off one of her penguin flippers for hands and then reaching into a hidden pouch on the side of her suit. Jinsoul, though amused, watches her with stoicism as she reaches in and pulls out her phone, her tongue poking out in focus at the task.

“Me either.”

Jinsoul sighs. “Great.”

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll get out of here before the game starts.”

Jinsoul looks at her and almost loses it at how adorably reassuring and pleasant the smile on Jiwoo’s face is. It’s almost unfair. But then she’s distracted by the fact that the still-sweating girl looks beyond uncomfortable in the clearly unbreathable penguin get-up.

“Hey, you can take that off if you want. I mean…it doesn’t look comfortable.”

“It’s not but…I’m pretty bare bones underneath here,” the redhead quietly admits.

Jinsoul doesn’t miss the implication. The idea. The mental image that is now projecting itself onto the movie theater screens in her mind and flustering her beyond belief.

Stuck. In an elevator. With Kim Jiwoo.

Kim Jiwoo in her _underwear_.

God, can her hormones chill for like two seconds?

She musters up all the strength the logical side of her will allow and shakes her head. She glances down at the girl’s quasi-webbed feet. “Oh, uh—”

“I’m still getting used to the suit,” Jiwoo calmly explains, not seeming to pick up on the tension. “What better way to train my body than to be forcibly stuck in it for what could be hours, days even—”

_Days?_

“Please don’t say _days_,” Jinsoul hears herself begging a little more pathetically than necessary. She would never admit it, but the idea sends a sharp pang of fear through her body.

“Just kidding.”

It’s quiet for a beat—Jiwoo continuing Jinsoul’s futile work of pressing the many buttons on the wall, the latter frozen in place, too overwhelmed to do much of anything.

A couple of tense minutes pass until Jinsoul finally slinks down the wall in defeat. It doesn’t seem like this whole mechanical power failure is a fluke. Pulling her knees to her chest, she looks up at the ceiling, a drawn-out sigh creeping from her lips.

She catches sight of the penguin head resting against the wall where the redhead set it down. She’s never seen it this close before. During games, the mascot acts as background noise for her in the same way the vibrant chatter from the attendees does. Both help set the scene, but they don’t stand out when she’s focused on the game and more importantly: _winning._

The humorously hulking eyes are pretty horrifying from this short distance and a feeling of relief floods over Jinsoul at the realization that she’s never met them out on the field. She’s positive they would follow her around like a painting.

The yellow beak is slightly agape, clearly so the wearer can see out of it. And the longer she hypnotically stares at it, Jinsoul begins to feel like the head is taunting her. The thing’s expression lacks any sort of emotion which, she notes, is ironic considering how _overflowing _with energy and emotion the girl who was just inside of it seems to be.

Speaking of said girl, when the _hell_ did she become the school mascot?! Jinsoul curses herself for being so oblivious and gazes up at her companion.

Jiwoo’s animated human head is frenetically whipping to and fro as she meticulously inspects every inch of their environment. Seemingly deciding no obvious escape exists in the formidable metal box, her tune changes.

_BANG, BANG, BANG_

Hands instinctively slam themselves onto Jinsoul’s ears when out of nowhere, the younger girl kicks and pounds on the walls as if they owed her money. If there were a boxing team at the school, the blonde reckons Jiwoo would easily take place as the star. Who knew so much strength existed in that little body?

But instead of complimenting Jiwoo’s power, her form, her frenzied focus, Jinsoul decides on behalf of her precious hearing to talk the girl down.

“Hey!”

Jiwoo whips her head down to the blonde, her innocent doe-eyed expression in stark contrast to the aggressive power previously on display.

“Let’s just chillax!”

The redhead’s eyebrow flicks up at the Jinsoul’s outdated word choice.

“Banging on the walls won’t do any good I don’t think.”

Jinsoul pauses for Jiwoo’s reaction. The girl finally shrugs in mock offense, sporting an expression that seems to say _well it’s better than doing nothing like SOME people._

And that sentiment _gets _to Jinsoul, which is why she not-so-eloquently hops up and pretends to examine the doors.

“This door…it’s the one exit…”

Her voice trails off as she slides her finger down the crisp metal lines. It’s not a lie that she wants to get out of here, but it’s true that she’s feeling pessimistic. And before she has a chance to pull an escape idea out of her ass, the little idea bulb gleams over Jiwoo’s head instead. Which explains why the girl dramatically gasps.

“There’s gotta be an emergency exit, right?!”

And like clockwork, they both look to the ceiling.

Smooth, grey, and bare, if you minus the spider residing in the upper right corner. No emergency exit in sight.

“Shame. We could have busted out and then slid down a rope or something!” Jiwoo exclaims. “I saw it in a movie.”

The redhead’s elbow, or what Jinsoul guesses is the girl’s elbow since the suit prohibits her from bending her arms very much, nudges teasingly into the blonde’s side.

But Jinsoul can’t find it in herself to joke right now.

“At this point we’d be better off writing our wills on our phones. If not because we starve to death in here than because if I ever _do _get out my coach is gonna exterminate me.”

“It’s just one game! This is an emergency situation.”

“It’s the championship game,” Jinsoul flares. She buries her head in her hands, a lump forming in her throat. “I’m gonna miss the championship game and everyone’s gonna think I bailed from nerves or something.”

“Jinsoul—ah—can I call you Jinsoul? My name is Jiwoo!”

The blonde whips her head up at the other girl’s cheery greeting. Her round face is now mostly smile. It suddenly dawns on Jinsoul that they’ve likely never formally introduced themselves.

But Jiwoo knows her name.

“The elevator could start up again any second!” Jiwoo insists. “Plus, even _if _we’re stuck here for an hour there’s no _way _they’d start the game without you. Double plus, this is the only elevator in the school. Someone will figure out what’s going on!”

It _is _the only elevator in the school, that’s true. But school’s over for the day. Jinsoul doesn’t dare pop the girl’s optimistic bubble this time, though. Not when her lips are still curved into the most reassuring smile Jinsoul’s ever seen, her eyes squinting into half-moons and her eyebrows curved upwards.

She can’t find it in herself to reply. And she also can’t stop the _my name is Jiwoo _from ringing through her mind. As if she wouldn’t know the girl’s name, as if she’s never scribbled it a hundred times over in a notebook.

“Imagine this school playing the championship game without Jung Jinsoul!” The redhead snorts. “It’s just not realistic.”

Well, she’s not exactly wrong. But she’s also not completely right. After all, it costs money and takes time to organize a championship game. There are a lot of people presumably already in those stands and they paid to get in. The whole thing wouldn’t just shut down because one player has vanished into thin air.

“Thanks,” the blonde nods bashfully.

Jiwoo once again quirks her eyebrow up at the girl.

“You’re welcome.”

Feeling a weird urge to sob, Jinsoul squeezes her eyes shut. Too many feelings are threatening to burst out of her, but she’s used to keeping cool under pressure. She’s got this. One deep breath and she’ll be good to go. Plus, she’s gay. And with her crush standing bright eyed and penguin tailed right in front of her, she figures she should at least _try_ and be less of a baby about her athletic career falling to shambles.

“So…” Jinsoul says totally casually. “You know about my playing?”

“I’m the school mascot.”

Jinsoul’s eyes flicker down to the penguin suit’s plump black and white belly.

“…Right. Forgot.”

A crippling silence lingers as Jinsoul thinks of a different opener, but a seemingly unaware Jiwoo eventually makes her way over to the corner. The blonde watches as the girl plops down on the floor and fiddles with her phone.

_This is gonna be a long afternoon, _Jinsoul thinks.

* * *

_5:11_

When Jinsoul was a kid, she briefly owned a hamster. The thing was cute and lovable and everything a little girl could ask for in a pet…for the first couple of weeks. It became clear the more time went by that the rotund ball of fluff sought a life _outside_ of the cage it was forced to call home. Its cage was located on the other side of the girl’s bedroom, near the door. And all night when the girl tossed and turned seeking out a peaceful slumber, the hamster gnawed on the bars of the cage, ready to make its quick dash out into the world. The hamster care books she sifted through told her that her pet was bored. So, she bought a running wheel and some toys, hoping the stimulation would distract the rodent from making a great escape.

It didn’t work.

Not only did the hamster _still_ spend most of its waking hours trying to bite its way out, but it also started taking out its frustration on _itself._ A 9-year old Jinsoul was shocked when one morning, she looked inside the small cage to find that her hamster had managed to bite its foot off. A violent display of protest or a sign of mental instability? Who knows. She was so traumatized by the ordeal that she begged her parents to take the critter away.

It’s not hard to understand why her hamster was so eager for freedom. What is one to do stuck inside of a cage all day and night but try and escape? Especially all alone. Maybe she should have gotten a companion for the hamster. Better to suffer together than by yourself, Jinsoul thinks.

Her eyes flicker to over to the quiet girl sitting diagonally from her, tapping away on her phone.

Or not. Suffering together doesn’t seem to be working out either.

Jinsoul knows the only reason she’s reflecting on her long-gone pet is because she finally feels the empathy she lacked as a child. If this elevator had metal bars, she would have started chomping fifteen minutes ago.

After all, it’s so incredibly dull in this cramped box. And awkward. And hot. And stifling. And nerve-wracking. And also, _how _is she supposed to brighten the mood in here? The real reason Jinsoul’s managed to keep it together is because of her crisis partner but with this dead silence she’s not sure how long that will last.

Jiwoo doesn’t seem like she’s fallen victim to any of the inner turmoil and concerns the blonde has.

In fact, Jiwoo has seemed remarkably calm throughout this whole ordeal. The blonde’s begun to pick up on it. Keeping her gaze fixed on the redhead, Jinsoul examines her. _Really _examines her in a way she didn’t dare just an hour prior.

Her slightly damp red hair clings to her forehead as if a protective shield. Jiwoo normally could win an award for best bangs in the school but they have certainly seen better days. Perfectly groomed eyebrows are furrowed into the girl’s focused big, brown eyes. And the rose powdering her cheeks would lend her well if she ever decided to model for artists in some still-life face study. Actually, the more Jinsoul stares the more she can’t help but be convinced Jiwoo is just an android posing as a human. Her face is too perfect. Which, as a major sci-fi fan, Jinsoul could get behind. She secretly always wanted to meet an android.

But androids likely don’t sweat, so the tiny drop traipsing down the girl’s face and which she absentmindedly swipes away probably means the girl does indeed share Jinsoul’s mortal condition.

And boy, is it hot in this elevator. The lack of central air conditioning is becoming more apparent with each passing minute. Jiwoo can’t keep herself locked inside that suit for very much longer or she’ll probably pass out from heat exhaustion.

But she’s definitely _mostly naked _under there, Jinsoul remembers. Even in this heat, the idea still sends shivers down her spine. And Jiwoo seems like she can take care of herself, so the blonde decides to stay mum on that subject.

“Are you writing a novel over there?” Jinsoul breaks the silence.

Jiwoo looks up.

“Just a diary entry. It would usually go in my physical diary, but my phone will do for now.”

“Trying to memorialize this action-packed saga, huh?”

“Well, it’s not every day you get trapped in an elevator with…” Jiwoo cuts herself off and glances back down at her phone. “It’s a unique situation.”

“That’s true. I never thought I’d die with a penguin by my side.”

“What’s with you and dying? This could end up being a fun experience, you know.”

“Really?” Jinsoul doesn’t bother masking her skepticism.

“Yeah! Plus, when you’re having fun, time goes by super quickly. It’s like science.”

“I would be having a lot more fun winning the championship game.”

“I’m sorry.” Jiwoo’s face softens with sympathy. “But there’s still time. We could get out any second.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s likely.” Jinsoul sighs and absentmindedly picks at her lucky socks. “So, what do you consider fun?”

“Lots of stuff. But for example, on long car rides my little brothers and I always play Ispy…makes the trips fly by!”

“You do see the flaw in us playing that particular game, right?”

“It was just an example…” The redhead sighs. “We could do twenty questions, or charades, or two truths and a lie. Something like that.”

The idea of playing a dumb game while she _should_ be playing the game she’s trained months for makes Jinsoul feel itchy. But she supposes it’s better than being a baby in the corner this whole time. Plus, Jiwoo seems excited and Jinsoul would be lying if she claimed she didn’t get a kick out of it.

Jinsoul shrugs. “Alright—two truths and a lie. I’m down.”

“Ooh, I was hoping you’d pick that one! I’ll go first!”

“Well Jiwoo, with that kind of enthusiasm how am I supposed to argue?”

“You’re not cuz you’ll lose!” Jiwoo perks up at the idea of a competition. “I was on the debate team, you know.”

“…Okay, so now give me one more truth and then a lie.” Jinsoul smiles amused.

The redhead’s eyes grow. “Wait, no that didn’t count! Okay, here it goes.” Jiwoo licks her lips and with a resounding clearing of her throat begins her attempt at throwing Jinsoul off. “_Number one_;” she puts her index finger up, “my favorite color is pink; _Number two_; I have a wonderfully extensive sticker collection; and _number three_; I secretly wear glasses.”

Jiwoo, eyes narrowed and three fingers in the air as a marker of her progress, smirks in preemptive victory. There’s no way Jinsoul will be able to figure her out. All three statements were equally as plausible as the other.

But before she has a chance to effectively master her stare-down, Jinsoul cracks her knuckles and begins guessing, an air of faultless confidence backing her words. Jiwoo’s not the only one that thrives off competition.

“Hmm, well you definitely wear glasses! In fact, if I look close enough…” she says, leaning into Jiwoo’s assured face, “…I can see the outlines of your lenses.” Her eyes flicker between Jiwoo’s cartoonishly large orbs. The smaller girl swallows, barely noticeable.

Suddenly, Jinsoul draws back, leans her head against the wall, and closes her eyes in reflection.

“I’ve never seen you wear pink. That’s the lie! Besides, everyone knows about your little sticker collection. Your notebooks, your backpack, your _locker_—all vandalized by Kim Jiwoo stickers.”

It’s silent and when Jinsoul opens her eyes she’s surprised to see the girl speechless and staring straight at her.

“What?”

“How…You’ve noticed the clothes I wear?”

The question is innocent, and it honestly shouldn’t rattle her so much, but saying _yes_ just confirms what Jinsoul’s still too nervous to outright say.

That not _only _has she surveyed the entire clothing spectrum of one Kim Jiwoo, but that she’s _also_ memorized nearly all her most-worn outfits. And of course, she wouldn’t have done any of that if she wasn’t absolutely smitten with the girl. Admitting that first part would reveal that pesky second part—and it’s already too hot in this elevator for all that.

“I’ve…” Jinsoul’s throat feels dry as she speaks. “We go to the same school, Jiwoo…and there are a ton of girls who flaunt around the color pink as a statement of identity or something. You’re not one of them.”

Jiwoo nods her head but the way she’s looking at Jinsoul makes the blonde feel uneasy. And when the redhead opens her mouth, Jinsoul decides to take her turn.

“I’ve played the piano for nine years, uhhh I’m bad at math, and um…I have this scar between my eyebrows after I fell off of a table when I was a kid.”

It’s quiet. Jiwoo’s clearly moved on fast from the tension from the way she’s analyzing Jinsoul like a science experiment. And after eons of silence, Jinsoul’s heart a quick murmur in the background, Jiwoo pipes up.

“I bet that scar is just from standing up too fast—you’re so tall, your head is probably more than acquainted with the ceiling.”

The blonde is astounded.

“Excuse me? I’m normal-sized! You’re just tiny.”

“Tiny people live longer.”

“Now who’s talking about dying?”

“It was about living, actually.” Jiwoo grins. “But I guess…the piano thing. That’s the lie.”

“Is that your final answer?”

Jinsoul can taste her victory.

Jiwoo nods.

“EEEEEHHHH!!!” The blonde slaps her own knee for emphasis. “You don’t think I’m good at math?”

“I assume everyone’s bad at math until proven otherwise. And because you can’t exactly prove it in here…”

“I’m not lying!”

“Maybe one day you can prove that.”

“Okay.” Jinsoul swallows. She wasn’t aware someone snuck in here to pump Kim Jiwoo full of sass. Is this how this girl always is?

“So…I’ve never missed a day of high school, I write in my diary every day, and the word ‘diet’ isn’t in my vocabulary.”

Jiwoo looks smug.

Jinsoul doesn’t like it.

“Let’s see… you were writing a diary entry about our now-fun adventure earlier, but you didn’t say how _often_ you write in it. And you don’t seem like the type of girl to be concerned with dieting. I mean, you certainly don’t _need _to, anyway.”

“So…?” Jiwoo feigns impatience and rhythmically taps her nails on the floor.

“_So!_ Even though I wouldn’t be surprised if you won best attendance in the school, I believe even someone as studious as you would need a day off occasionally.”

The tapping nails stop abruptly and the smaller girl huffs. “_Why_ are you so good at this?”

Jinsoul snorts. “I like to win. Also, that was easy. Everyone gets sick sometimes.”

“I’ve only missed _one _day, and it was for an audition, not cuz I was sick.”

“Oh? Did it go well?”

Jiwoo ignores the question and points her finger at the blonde. “Your turn.”

“I can’t think of anything!” Jinsoul exclaims, more than happy to listen to the cute girl scramble for more facts. “Go again!”

As the redhead bites her lip in concentration, Jinsoul realizes her own face has melted into a gooey grin. Huh. She’s having fun. It probably helps that she’s been yearning for a moment like this for an absurd amount of time.

“Animal Crossing is my favorite video game. My favorite fruit is grapes. I have a black belt in taekwondo.”

Jinsoul barely lets the girl finish before she’s rolling her eyes.

“There’s no way you have a black belt in taekwondo!”

“Um, yes way,” Jiwoo responds, clearly offended.

“Nope.”

There’s only three feet max between them, but it suddenly feels like they’re in a western standoff, both having taken up positions from across the street. Only Jinsoul secretly feels giddy at the possibility of Jiwoo pulling her gun first.

“C’mon.” The redhead jumps up and puts her hands on her fuzzy hips. “Get up!”

“No way—I’m not gonna fight a penguin!”

“But you’ll get your butt kicked by one!”

Before the blonde has a chance to formulate a retort, Jiwoo pulls Jinsoul up like a rag doll. She steadies the bewildered girl by locking her hands on her shoulders.

Jiwoo’s once enchanting, doe-like eyes sort of resemble the penguin head’s right about now.

Yes, Jinsoul thinks it’s hot. She’ll reflect on her questionable taste later.

“Put your hand right here,” Jiwoo commands, grabbing Jinsoul’s sweaty palm and keeping it flat in the air.

“Why?!”

“And keep it stiff.” Jiwoo gives Jinsoul’s hand the quickest and tiniest high-five in history before slinking back a few feet. “This won’t hurt…I don’t think.”

Jinsoul looks terrified and thrilled all at once. There isn’t a single part of her that has any awareness of just how goofy her slightly hunched body and outstretched hand look. That doesn’t matter to her because Jiwoo is currently getting into what the blonde guesses is the proper taekwondo stance and…oh wow, yeah that _does_ look legit even if the stupid penguin suit is impeding her movement…and oh my god Jiwoo has really mastered her staredown…

Before the blonde can process the turn of events, Jiwoo is moving. The smaller girl’s body turns ever so slightly and as if second nature, her fuzzy leg extends powerfully, the girl’s flipper shoe landing a swift but intentionally soft blow smackdab into Jinsoul’s hand.

“Ow, what the hell!” Jinsoul stumbles back into the wall and stares at her hand. “My hand isn’t made of wood!”

Jiwoo smiles with pride.

“Hey, I went easy on you. I could do something like this—”

Before she knows what’s up or down, Jinsoul is helplessly forced into a tight headlock.

The little bits of fluff on Jiwoo’s penguin arm tickle her chin and for that reason, plus the fact that she’s insanely amused and a tad bit aroused, Jinsoul beams at the floor.

Oh man, if Sooyoung could see her right now. It would likely be apparent to anyone that the blonde is getting many thrills out of this, but unlike most people, Sooyoung’s tongue isn’t accustomed to being bitten. Thank god this elevator doesn’t have any cameras.

Once satisfied that she’s made her point, Jiwoo frees the taller girl and glides back to her former position.

“Okay, penguin,” Jinsoul blurts out, trying to catch her breath and brush herself off. “So I guess we’re safe from elevator orcs…but just so you know, I’m not the enemy.”

Jiwoo chuckles, genuinely entertained.

“I know you’re not. But getting under your skin is kind of fun.”

Jinsoul places her hands on her hips and playfully pouts.

“So is two truths and a lie, remember?!”

The redhead repentantly bows.

“Yes. Apologies.”

They stand there for a couple of seconds smiling at each other, at what, who knows. But then Jinsoul is charging towards her, and Jiwoo doesn’t have any time to defend herself against what will likely be retaliation.

She feels her heart rate pick up in anticipation.

“Eyelash,” Jinsoul grunts simply while she reaches toward Jiwoo’s flushed cheek.

“Wait, I’m!” The blonde ignores her squeaky protests and carefully picks the eyelash off. “Sweat alert…” Jiwoo pathetically mumbles under her breath.

“Jiwoo, I play lacrosse,” Jinsoul reassures her when she notices that the girl seems _genuinely _embarrassed. “You think I’m grossed out by a little sweat?”

Trying her best to mirror the blonde’s effortlessly charming smirk, Jiwoo nods.

“Now,” Jinsoul pronounces, raising her eyebrows authoritatively as if she didn’t just get physically taken down one minute ago, “if you don’t make a wish for us to get out, then we _are _enemies.”

Deciding to pass up the chance to poke fun, Jiwoo tightly grabs Jinsoul’s index finger with her right hand. Then she dramatically closes her eyes and blows.

The eyelash disappears instantly. Jiwoo keeps her hand and eyes locked onto the blonde’s finger.

Once Jiwoo lets go, the moment too disappears instantly, but the girls’ giddy moods remain.

Satisfied and feeling a little _too_ good, Jinsoul giggles and sits back down.

“I can honestly say—this is _not_ what I had envisioned for my day.”

Jiwoo elects to sit next to her this time.

“Ms. Black belt…that’s pretty impressive.” Jinsoul’s eyes skirt over the girl’s face in amazement. “And I’m guessing animal crossing is Kim Jiwoo’s game of the year, huh?” Jiwoo shrugs as if to say _obviously. _“So, you don’t like grapes then?”

“They’re just okay. I prefer strawberries.”

Strawberries. She prefers strawberries. Now, _there’s_ a new fact she’ll keep locked in the Kim Jiwoo file folder in her brain. For some reason she feels like it’ll come in handy in the future. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

It’s a bit funny, she thinks. It’s a bit funny how quickly she’s managed to forget she’s stuck in a crisis situation, not on a coffee date. At least the fun she’s having is now trumping the crappy circumstances. Her gaze shifts to the unmoving metal door and suddenly she feels sure of something.

She should have bought that stupid hamster a penguin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hamsters freak me out.


	2. Part 2

_5:54_

“Never have I ever cheated on a test!”

Eyes rapidly bounce back and forth. Jiwoo’s got her now—no way miss MVP of the school lacrosse team hasn’t cheated _at least _a few times to get by.

But Jiwoo should know by now that Jinsoul isn’t that simple.

“I haven’t!” The blonde proudly announces. She’s only had to put down one finger so far, Jiwoo two. “Actually, I spend more time drawing little doodles on the test waiting for other people to finish. One time I got extra credit for my drawing of a tyrannosaurus-rex. The teacher said he was impressed by how anatomically correct it looked.”

Jiwoo’s eyes get wide. “Wait, you like dinosaurs?”

“Hell yep!”

“Me too…” The redhead leans back on her arm grinning.

“Yeah?! Well, how many dino-nuggets can you eat?”

Jinsoul has been delighted thus far to find that Jiwoo enjoys competition almost as much, if not more than, she does. Every time she sets the trap, Jiwoo takes it, desperate to outweigh her competitor. Yes, it’s kind of the cutest thing the blonde’s ever seen.

“Oh, I can eat _way _more dino-nuggets than you can, I promise you…”

Bingo.

“…I mean, I may be small, but my parents don’t call me the bottomless pit for nothing.”

Jinsoul places her hand in front of the girl’s face and vehemently shakes her head.

“No way! All I have to do is shove as many in my mouth as possible so when I start chewing, my body thinks it’s just one big nugget instead of a bunch.”

The redhead seems to be confounded based on the way she’s frozen in place.

“You know…” Jiwoo states carefully, “…you say some dumb things sometimes, Jinsoul. I like it.”

Not even attempting to hide her shock at the girl’s words, Jinsoul’s mouth hangs open. The only person who would ever dare to say such a thing to her is the one and only Ha Sooyoung. And she has. Many times, in fact. But Jiwoo? Jinsoul isn’t sure how to take it, but the girl claimed she liked her alleged missing brain cells so acting offended may be the wrong course of action.

“Um…thanks?”

Jiwoo’s still frozen, her eyes focused and precise.

“You’re not at all like how I thought you were,” escapes the redhead’s mouth. She sounds amazed.

The blonde isn’t the most intuitive in the world as previously pointed out but even she knows there’s a weird tension lingering in the air. It makes her hands feel clammier.

Echoing the redhead’s earlier question, Jinsoul timidly pipes up.

“You’ve thought about…how I am?”

Jiwoo tuts. “Well, duh! You’re Jung Jinsoul.”

Jinsoul tries and fails to see how that explanation is…an explanation.

Sensing that sentiment, Jiwoo rolls her eyes.

“Never have I _ever _been named MVP of my lacrosse team three years in a row!”

Ah. Right. Jinsoul gets it. She guesses it’s nice to be reminded of her popularity around school, but she can’t help but be a _little _disappointed.

“Okay, that’s just unfair,” she begrudgingly says as her ring finger goes down.

The smaller girl shrugs.

“Just trying to one-up you after my two truths and a lie loss.”

“I thought you did that when you ronda rousey’ed me.”

“Maybe I _also _just wanted to prove that I know stuff about you…” A shy smile creeps onto Jiwoo’s face. Jinsoul’s eyes lock onto the way the now-tender girl licks her lips and then delicately places a hand on her bare knee.

Oh, hello tension. Welcome back.

A million incoherent thoughts start racing through Jinsoul’s brain and she swears she can feel her blood rushing. Jiwoo just keeps smiling, waiting. Her hand is still camped there on the blonde’s knee. It’s beyond distracting.

The temperature has been gradually rising, but jeez Jinsoul feels burning up right now. What the hell does she say to _that?_ In a panic, Jinsoul’s mouth moves before she has a chance to stop it.

“Never have I ever tripped up the stairs at the talent show.”

Jiwoo removes her hand.

Jinsoul cringes at herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Did she _really _have to remind Jiwoo of what was probably a devastatingly embarrassing moment she’s likely tried to forget? Yes, the blonde still finds it cute, but how is Jiwoo gonna know that? Time to try and master the art of apologies.

Jiwoo beats her to it.

“Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?”

Jiwoo’s eyebrows are raised nearly up to her hairline as if asking a child with chocolate-stained hands if they got into the cookie jar.

“No! I felt bad for you when it happened! I don’t know why I just said it now, I’m sorry. God, I really can be kind of stupid sometimes. And honestly, the whole thing was dorky—but like in an endearing way!! I like it…your _dorkiness_. Once again, I’m sorry and—"

“It’s funny Jinsoul, cuz you’re kind of a bonafide dork. I don’t know how I never noticed it.” Jiwoo, legs crossed and flipper feet tapping together, appears deep in thought.

Hold on a second. Jinsoul? Dorky? Yet another thing nobody’s ever dared to utter. Well, nobody except Sooyoung. And best friend jibes don’t actually count, everyone knows that. But now Jinsoul has her doubts.

“_I’m _dorky?!” Jinsoul’s hands slam to her chest. “You’ve literally _reminded _substitute teachers of homework being due!”

Jiwoo’s eyes narrow. “I thought you just said you like my dorkiness.”

“Well, I do!” Jinsoul swears it keeps getting hotter. “But not really when it creates more work for me!”

Jiwoo rolls her eyes. Jinsoul has noticed she’s quite fond of that particular gesture. Infuriating.

“The more assignments teachers grade, Jinsoul, the higher your chance to raise your grade.”

Everybody knows Jinsoul’s grades are just fine and the blonde suspects Jiwoo is just saying this to get a rise out of her.

And of course, it works.

“God, this is so demoralizing. First, I get stuck in here and miss the game, then a penguin beats my ass, and now I’m being called a dork. A _dumb _dork!”

“I’m not calling you dumb, Jinsoul.”

“Meanwhile I’m gonna be a bag of bones by the time we’re discovered. _And _I’ll never eat another dino-nugget again!!!”

“I think things will get easier if you stop acting like this is the end of the world.”

But it kind of _is _the end of Jinsoul’s world. It’s her last year of school, her last championship game, her last chance to prove to everyone her athleticism isn’t just a fluke. It’s everything she’s worked for this whole season and honestly, her life. And _how _does Jiwoo not realize that?! She’s so chill with this whole thing, almost like she planned it.

Maybe it’s the heat or Jiwoo’s rationality, she’s not sure, but Jinsoul is spiraling into utter frustration with the smaller girl. Which is why conspiracy theory Jinsoul makes a visit and not-so-eloquently exclaims that—

“You’re the one who’s acting like this isn’t your first rodeo!”

“Meaning?” Jiwoo, ever so calm, is starting to seem frazzled too if all the sweat is any indication.

“From the _first second _the elevator stopped you’ve been cooler than a cucumber!”

_Cooler_. Interesting word.

Boy, it’s hot in here.

“Why are you acting like I _made_ the elevator get stuck?!”

Jiwoo’s loud now. Really loud. Another drop of sweat trails down her cheek.

“Well, it’s just weird!!!” Jinsoul shouts, trying to match the other girl’s volume. “I mean it’s…and it’s…and YOU!”

“What is _that _supposed to mean?” Jiwoo seems more confused than anything at this point. “What’s wrong with ME?”

Realizing she almost gave herself away, Jinsoul tries to scramble but the heat is making her slightly woozy.

“Oh, god, no I just mean…ugh! Well what were you even _doing _upstairs anyway?! It’s just—”

“GOD, _PAUSE THAT THOUGHT!!!”_

Hands instinctively slam themselves onto Jinsoul’s ears for the second time today as the redhead’s piercing, megaphonian voice rings throughout the metal box. In a frenzy, Jiwoo shoots up and furiously begins ripping off the penguin suit as rapidly as she can. Jinsoul is stunned into complete silence.

Assuming she’s about to get an eyeful of non-decent Kim Jiwoo, Jinsoul turns away. Her cheeks feel like fire.

Amidst a chorus of _god_’s and _ugh_’s and _come on_’s, the blonde keeps her eyes trained on the sleek, silver wall. There’s a tiny dent in the right corner she didn’t notice earlier. She tries to imagine how it got there—if an angry student, having just received their 5th ‘F’ in Biology for the semester took it out in the only way they knew how. She tries and tries, too scared to turn her head.

After an intense thirty-second struggle, there’s a long sigh of relief.

Then insane, uproarious laughter.

Feeling like Jiwoo may be laughing at _her_, Jinsoul can’t help but flit her eyes toward the girl.

What she sees is obviously not what she expects.

“What the eff is that?” The blonde can’t help but question.

“This?” Jiwoo exaggeratedly tugs on her tank top. The tank top that has a picture of _herself_ printed on it. “It’s freedom. Gosh, two more minutes and I would have collapsed from heat exhaustion. Those things really are not designed well.”

“But that’s not your underwear…I thought you didn’t wanna take off the suit cuz you were in your underwear under there…”

“What’s with your tone…?”

Jinsoul shakes her head.

“No, it’s just. Jiwoo, you could have suffocated and the only reason I didn’t wanna say anything is cuz I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable and—”

“What, you mean that bare-bones joke?” Jiwoo walks right up to the nearest wall, trying her hardest to examine her reflection in the metal. “I just tell people that so they think I’m like those Scottish dudes who go commando under their kilts. Makes me laugh to see people’s faces.” She straightens her tank top out and brushes her shorts down that had slightly begun to ride up. “But I don’t really trust this suit when it comes to cleanliness so…”

Jinsoul nods and tries to regain her composure.

“Well…cool. Now you can’t die yet!”

“Yeah.” Jiwoo snorts. “And now you can’t call me penguin.”

“I’ll just call you weirdo instead. _Why _on earth is there a picture of you making a heart in front of your face printed on your shirt?”

Jiwoo looks down, smiles, and then shrugs as if she didn’t even notice.

“It gives me more Jiwoo energy when I need it. I always wear it under the suit. Nobody knows it’s there except for me…well, and I guess you now.”

Jiwoo plops back down on the floor next to Jinsoul. And then she fondly gazes down at her own face on her shirt. It’s the cheesiest, most annoyingly cute photograph of the girl and yeah, Jinsoul wonders who the heck allowed her to print it. Seriously, she kind of wants to know so she can buy one, too.

The girl’s explanation doesn’t exactly make sense to the blonde at first. Not until she looks down at her own legs and spots her socks. She guesses that’s what the ridiculous shirt is for Jiwoo—a lucky charm.

Jinsoul thanks god for the distracting picture. Otherwise she’d be distracted by the slope of the smaller girl’s collarbone, the soft skin of her neck, the toned muscles in her arms, her broad shoulders. Yeah, that dorky picture is a godsend for her sanity.

“I can move way easier now…” Jiwoo notes, wiggling her arms about, “…so watch your extremities.” She flicks Jinsoul’s arm to drive her point home.

“You know, you could have taken that off when we first got stuck.” Jinsoul feels like an idiot. But she doesn’t much care because of how seriously concerned about Jiwoo’s mental stability she is now. Does she have a death wish? Even the blonde is burning up and she’s in a jersey and shorts.

“To be honest with you…” Jiwoo closes her eyes. “I thought we’d be out by now.”

“Yeah.” Jinsoul smiles bitterly and gazes at the ceiling. “Hey, do you think we’re winning?”

“I told you before—I don’t think they’d play without you.”

Jinsoul shifts her gaze back to the girl next to her only to find the redhead sporting the most apologetic look so far. It makes her feel less alone. But it also hurts.

Jiwoo doesn’t give her time to dwell, however.

She poses a radical idea: “Let’s do something productive.”

“Like what?”

“Like…we’re in Spanish class together. We could practice?”

Hmm, not the worst idea. Spanish is the only class they share and conveniently Jinsoul’s weakest subject. An hour ago, she may have been concerned over making a fool in front of Jiwoo, but at this point, who cares? Jiwoo already schooled her physically, she might as well let the girl show off her inevitably impressive linguistic abilities.

“Fine…go ahead, penguin. Er, I mean señorita.”

“I think you can just call me amiga at this point.”

Jinsoul hardly even knows what Spanish _is _but even she knows amiga means friend. And yeah, Jiwoo is her friend! Kim Jiwoo! Jinsoul’s friend!

She feels like a golden retriever being told she gets to go for a walk.

Yes, fellow students, grade 12 Jung Jinsoul _is _friends with grade 11 Kim Jiwoo.

Hey, Jiwoo’s words not hers.

* * *

_6:44_

Being productive—not one of Kim Jiwoo’s worst ideas. In fact, Jinsoul feels like she learned more in her short Spanish session with the tiny girl than a whole semester has given her.

Plus, Jiwoo is a whole helluva lot more entertaining than their Spanish teacher. So not only was it productive but also fun!

The girls’ sides nearly split when Jiwoo was trying to explain why the tilde over the ‘n’ in Spanish is so important. After all, she said, nobody would want to be told ‘happy birthanus’ rather than _birthday_.

Jinsoul didn’t argue with that.

And even now as they’ve begun to venture out of Spanish territory and back into dinosaur talk, the blonde feels as though the entertainment with this girl never ends.

Jiwoo’s up and about, no longer very concerned about the heat, acting out types of dinosaurs charades-style while Jinsoul guesses. It’s peaceful and cheery and the girls have seemingly forgotten that they’re not _supposed _to be enjoying this.

And while Jiwoo’s got her neck extended pretending to eat leaves off of a tree, a third character chimes in. Or _rumbles _in rather. The pure imaginary visual of consuming food is enough to make Jinsoul’s stomach vocalize its own frustration at the circumstances. The last snack she ate—an apple and a handful of almonds—is no longer curbing her appetite.

Jiwoo pauses her impression and flares her nostrils.

“Someone needs some fuel in her tank.”

Yeah, Jinsoul’s hungry. But she’s having too much fun to care.

“Come on, penguin!” The blonde makes a visor on her head with her hand. “Let’s go scouting for some fishies.”

“There’s one over there, ma’am!” Jiwoo plays along, beginning to act out the scene. “I’ll attempt to retrieve it for you!”

“Be careful of the waves. Should be high tide about now.”

“A few meager waves won’t take _this _penguin down,” Jiwoo replies, pretending to flop around in nonexistent thrashing waves.

“Wait, hold on. Can penguins swim?” Jinsoul furrows her brow. Jiwoo stares at her. “Joking…” Jinsoul nervously giggles. “But they definitely can’t fly right?”

And to that, Jinsoul gets yet another eye roll. Maybe she’s imagining it, but the eyerolls have become less genuinely irritated at her idiocy and more charmed by it. Probably her imagination.

“Seriously though…you okay?” Jiwoo asks as she squats in front of the girl.

“Hmm. I’m starting to feel like only _one_ of us is going to make it out of here.”

“Hey!” Jiwoo shrieks. “No resorting to cannibalism that quickly. But maybe in like an hour…”

Now Jinsoul takes her chance to roll her eyes. Jiwoo grins, proud that she elicited that response. And then, like a shock to her system, she gasps.

“Oh my god!”

“What?!”

The smaller girl sucks her lips into her mouth with excitement and bounces over to the lump on the floor that is her penguin suit.

“The cure to all of your problems in right in this pouch!” She points spiritedly at the suit. Her eyes are twinkling.

“If you knew how to get out of this damn elevator, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Oh. No, I meant…I can silence your stomach,” Jiwoo proudly proclaims. She reaches into the suit pouch, feeling around with great concentration. Jinsoul allows herself to smile at the girl’s tongue poking out in focus. And when she finally finds what she’s looking for, Jiwoo presents it over her head with glee.

“…Twizzlers?”

Bouncing over to Jinsoul’s side, Jiwoo lays the bag of twizzlers on the older girl’s lap.

“This is so embarrassing, but…” Jiwoo begins shyly, “…okay, you know when you asked me what I was doing upstairs?”

“I don’t get it. You had to make a quick candy run before jumping around in a penguin suit for a couple of hours?”

“Yep!”

Jiwoo carefully reaches into Jinsoul’s lap and pulls out a single Twizzler. She waves it enticingly in front of the blonde’s face.

“Come on, you have to eat something, Jung Jinsoul.”

Melting at how pretty her full name sounds flowing out of Jiwoo’s mouth _and _the cheesy grin on the girl’s petite face, Jinsoul opens her mouth.

Not thinking twice, Jiwoo feeds the taller girl the twizzler, entranced.

Maybe sugar isn’t the best thing to be consuming right now. But Jinsoul doesn’t believe anyone with a heart and soul would have the strength to turn this little penguin down.

Satisfied, Jiwoo grabs herself a twizzler and crams it in her mouth. Clumsily speaking around it, she tells Jinsoul that, like her Jiwoo energy shirt, Twizzlers are her Jiwoo vitality candy. And remembering that she left her precious twizzlers in her 3rd period English class earlier in the day, Jiwoo saw it imperative to retrieve them. Hence, her current presence on the elevator.

After scarfing down a few more twizzlers, Jinsoul examines the space between them. Space that has seemed to shrink amongst the whole candy exchange. Jiwoo’s hand is resting casually in the blonde’s lap. Her head, too, is taking a rest on Jinsoul’s shoulder. The girl is so close and Jinsoul can’t help but flashback to the moment she first witnessed the girl taking her penguin head off. A jolt of anxiety rushes through her at the memory. They’ve come so far since then in such a short amount of time. Jinsoul isn’t typically the reminiscing type, but somehow it feels incredibly easy to reminisce over how oblivious they both were just two hours ago and reflect on how comfortable they now seem to be. They’re _friends_ now. But even though they’ve just attained friends status, Jinsoul can feel herself yearning for more. Especially when she focuses on the feeling of Jiwoo’s skin on hers and the weight of the girl’s head on her shoulder. She hopes Jiwoo never moves.

She _does _move, but only to turn her head and stare right into Jinsoul’s eyes.

There’s a tangible silence. A calm silence. But they can both feel that it’s being weighed down by something else, something unspoken.

They bask in it for a while. Until Jiwoo asks something that’s been lingering in her mind for a while.

“Wait a second, Jinsoul…what were YOU doing upstairs?!”

Jinsoul shuts her eyes in shame.

“My…lucky socks.” The words are almost too embarrassing to utter. “Almost forgot them.”

A few solid seconds of silence pass until, in unison, they burst into hysterical laughter.

“Lucky socks,” Jiwoo chuckles out, “how is that working out for you?”

“Not that bad actually.”

Okay, Jinsoul. Smooth.

The blonde brushes a stray hair out of Jiwoo’s eyes. The smaller girl softly smiles up at her, Jinsoul returning it with joy.

She’s not sure what’s happening but suddenly things feel a lot easier. A lot better. A lot like things are changing. Except in the best way.

How she’s gonna fill Sooyoung in on everything that’s happened, she has no clue. It briefly crosses her mind that she could be recording their whole exchange. A time capsule for future generations. _This is how two lesbians found themselves stuck in an elevator. Fatally stuck in an elevator. Passed away with twizzlers stuck in their teeth and snuggled up in their final hours._

Honestly, Jinsoul thinks, dying doesn’t sound too bad with Jiwoo by her side.

* * *

_7:18_

“I didn’t know you were the mascot,” Jinsoul murmurs in a quiet moment. She’s now lying on the floor, Jiwoo’s head resting on her stomach. Every time the blonde speaks the smaller girl’s head bops around the slightest amount. It makes Jinsoul smile.

Jiwoo’s eyes widen in pure disbelief. She shifts her body to the side, resting her hand on Jinsoul’s upper stomach.

“To be honest…I didn’t even know you knew _me._”

“What?” Jinsoul questions like Jiwoo just said the ghastliest thing. “Of course, I _know _you.” And there’s an understatement. “How did you even become the mascot, anyway?”

“Oh!” The redhead lightly slaps her hand against Jinsoul’s ribs at the memory. “There was an opening a couple of months ago after the last kid who did it had a puking problem whenever he put on the head!”

Jinsoul’s face screws up in horror as she glances at the lifeless head on the other side of the elevator.

“It’s a different one…” Jiwoo bashfully reassures her.

“Feel like I would remember a mascot with chunks blowing out of the head, Jiwoo.”

“Nah you wouldn’t. Nobody really pays attention to the mascots but that’s okay! It’s a job that needs to be filled and I’m here to fill it!”

The combination of the redhead’s cheesy smile and cheery tone in her voice makes Jinsoul’s chest ache. She likes this girl _so _much it’s nuts. And Jiwoo is just herself. A happy little ball of energy and sass with an enviable drive and ambition.

“How do you _do that_?”

“What?”

“Everything,” Jinsoul says seriously. She gulps and studies the girl below her. “I mean you have a black belt in taekwondo, you’re the lead in the school choir, you’re the school mascot, from what I remember you’re consistently one of the top-ranking students…” Jiwoo isn’t smiling anymore, but Jinsoul feels compelled to go on. “…I’ve seen you picking up trash on the side of the road with that tree hugger eco-club—”

“Green is the New Black.” Jinsoul pauses. “That’s our team name,” Jiwoo points out, poking one of Jinsoul’s ribs.

“You used to take pictures for the school newspaper. I remember cuz the girls and I would always pose for you after our games. You waddled up with this huge camera and this little body…”

“…and the yearbook.”

“Huh?”

“I’m the lead photographer for the yearbook committee.”

Jinsoul playfully pushes back on Jiwoo’s shoulder.

“See what I mean? You do all these things and you do them so well…”

“That’s nothing, though. All little things.” Jiwoo stays quiet for a beat, mulling over Jinsoul’s words and finally realizing the gravity of the situation. “Wait,” She begins, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You noticed me? I mean you, Jung Jinsoul, one of the most popular girls in school, the literal _homecoming queen_ and star lacrosse player, you noticed me?”

“Oh my god.” Jinsoul smacks her own forehead. Is this girl _serious?? _“First of all, you have to stop asking that. Second of all, _Sooyoung _was the homecoming queen. She won fair and square just like the other three times. She just manipulated the votes this last time because she thought it would be funny to have everyone fawn all over me and watch me blow my speech. I hate that crap.”

“Your speech was perfect tho—”

“Jiwoo,” Jinsoul raises her voice and tightly grabs the smaller girl’s hand that’s playing with the fabric of her shirt. “To answer your question: Of course, I noticed you. I notice you all the time.”

Whoop, guess there’s no more hiding it. Not now. Jinsoul didn’t expect Jiwoo to downplay her accomplishments—it set something off inside of her. And given that the future is so unknown, the blonde feels so completely and deeply the need to tell the girl how important she is. She hopes she can find the words.

Jiwoo is going pale below her and after a huge swallow, she perks up off the older girl’s stomach. They’re both sitting up, face to face, Jiwoo’s eyes getting narrower and narrower by the second. Jinsoul is eagerly waiting in suspense for whatever comes next. She knows it will never feel soon enough.

“Jinsoul,” the redhead eventually squeaks out.

“Yeah?”

“…You weren’t one of those people who threw beer cans at the Green is the New Black club while we were picking up trash, were you?”

“What?!” Jinsoul barks. “People did that? Assholes. No, of course not! You think I would do that?”

A content smile creeps up on Jiwoo’s face and she shakes her head.

“Was just checking.”

Jinsoul bites her lip nervously. “Jiwoo, I would drive by and think about how sweet it was that you were doing that…and how…_cute_ you looked with that sun hat.”

Too anxious to meet Jiwoo’s eyes, Jinsoul stares at the girl’s knees. After seconds of silence pass, the blonde feels the other girl’s finger, tentative yet somehow sure, under her chin. Finally meeting those eyes she wants to drown in, Jinsoul’s heart nearly stops.

Jiwoo focuses on her face, scanning every pore. But that’s not what’s making the blonde swoon so much. It’s the _way_ she’s looking at her. Suddenly Jinsoul isn’t worried anymore. All of her concerns she had about her once confidential crush are fading by the second.

“Jinsoul, look can I admit something?” The older girl nods fervently. Please, admit away, she wants to scream out. “One: I really have to pee and you saying that almost caused an accident.” They both chuckle, releasing some of the nerves. “And two: I have some pictures on my phone…pictures I took of you… at some of the games.” Jiwoo isn’t looking at her anymore but the blonde swears she can see the twinkle in her eyes. “I like to take them when you’re super focused. Your hair is up, and your face is so pretty and regal, like a statue...”

The redhead’s eyes suddenly bulge out of her head.

“…and oh my god, that’s totally creepy, I know…”

“No—” Jinsoul jumps in, surprised her voice even works. “I mean, yes, if it were anybody else, I would probably feel creeped out but…since it’s you…”

“Since it’s me?”

Jiwoo is staring at her with an intense curiosity and a twinge of hope.

“…_it’s cute.”_

But instead of smiling, shyly batting her lashes, or biting her lip, Jiwoo shrugs the older girl’s words off.

“I know you say that to all the girls, but still, that’s really nice.”

Huh?!

“To _all girls? _What does that mean?”

Jiwoo scans the girl from head to toe as if checking for any evidence of the girl faking her out. 

“Everyone knows your name, Jinsoul,” her soft voice rings out. “But people talk, you know.”

Jinsoul’s face contorts with harsh disbelief.

“And what do _people _say?”

As if on cue, Jiwoo’s once twinkling eyes roll into her skull. Jinsoul doesn’t like this eyeroll as much as the others.

Jiwoo holds her palm in the air and looks at Jinsoul with intent.

“Never have I ever been the lesbian lothario of the school.”

Jinsoul almost wants to laugh in her face at the wording, but the idea that those baseless rumors have spread like lice in this school is raising her blood pressure. Sure, Jinsoul is aware of what people say. But rumors and chatter are the prices she pays for being, well, _who she is._ Popularity always comes with a price. She just never thought people would truly believe those stupid rumors. Least of all Jiwoo.

“Is that what you think I am?!”

Like salt in a wound, Jiwoo only shrugs.

Jinsoul crosses her arms. “I’ve had a whopping _one _girlfriend in my entire life, Jiwoo. And I’m not some heartbreaker like everyone thinks. Like you said, I’m _clearly _too dorky for all of that. I don’t even know how those rumors got started.”

She never let herself think about it—who made that crap up. Anything that pulled focus from her playing was of no importance. But now that she’s being confronted with the topic, the pieces are sliding into place.

They name the culprit in unison.

“Sooyoung.”

“Sooyoung.”

That girl’s name has probably been uttered in the same scornful way countless times. How giddy she would feel if she were witness to each one.

“Yeah,” Jinsoul exhales. “Her idea of being a wingwoman, I guess.”

A single dry chuckle exits her lips. Given that Ha Sooyoung is truly her one and only best friend, Jinsoul knows the rumors were spread with no ill intention. Hundreds of pep talks and a superabundance of words of encouragement flash into her brain. _Just talk to a girl, any girl! _The blonde bets Sooyoung never anticipated the way her lies would blow up in Jinsoul’s face. A lecture is certainly in order…someday. Honestly, Jinsoul can’t really commit to scolding just yet when she’s dying to unpack this entire day with her BFF.

Glancing up at the younger girl, Jinsoul is happy to find the twinkle coming back into focus in those brown eyes. At least Jiwoo believes her.

Recalling what Jiwoo admitted before they veered off-topic, Jinsoul remembers a secret of her own she feels the need to share. _The _secret. Her super dark, super top-secret secret that no one, not even Sooyoung, is aware of.

“Jiwoo, I have to show you something, too.”

The redhead is attentive. Jinsoul slides her phone from her pocket.

“Oh wow, it’s late huh?” Jinsoul anxiously mutters as she fiddles around on the screen.

After swiping around for a while, she finds what she’s looking for.

One deep breath, then another.

Then she hits play.

A sparkling melody crescendos into their ears and fills the corners of the room. Then comes the soft chorus of airy voices.

Jiwoo’s posture stiffens as she realizes what she’s hearing.

Jinsoul watches her.

A saccharine voice eventually materializes, carrying the song and elevating it. It’s the perfect balance between soft and powerful. But before the voice has a chance to lift the listeners into the climax, Jinsoul skips to the next audio. And then the next one. And the next one.

Multiple recordings of her, of Jiwoo, singing in her many performances. From which shows, Jiwoo can’t even recall, but there’s no denying the voice she keeps hearing. That’s hers, alright.

“I love these recordings,” Jinsoul whispers around each note. “Every talent show, every choir performance—I’m there. I get _so _excited knowing I get to hear your voice. I wouldn’t miss a single one.”

A hulking pit of emotion weighs down in the core of Jiwoo’s stomach. She’s speechless.

“And so, these recordings…I listen to them a lot. They make me feel better…a-and they inspire me.” An obscenely loud gulp from Jinsoul interrupts her train of thought. But all she really has left to say, all she truly wants Jiwoo to know is that—

“Your voice is just so beautiful, you know?”

Contrasting with the cold metallic palette that surrounds them, Jiwoo is now seeing warmth everywhere. In Jinsoul’s skin, in her lips, in her copper eyes and golden hair. A warm film enveloping the girl in front of her and soaking into her chest.

She fondly wraps her hand around the blonde’s, weaving their fingers together. Jinsoul is paranoid she’s shaking, but she quickly relaxes into it. Her mind envisions the sight of the two of them. Coupled with Jiwoo’s singing as the lighthearted backdrop plus the deflated penguin suit a couple of feet away giving the scene a certain patina, she guesses they would fit nicely into a teen rom-com.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jiwoo whispers back, squeezing Jinsoul’s hand. “I can’t believe you have those. That’s really sweet.”

“I cherish them.”

Tears well up in Jiwoo’s eyes but she never allows them to fall. They’re wiped away and her hand broken from Jinsoul’s grasp. It’s not a harsh parting, but Jinsoul feels the absence like the prick of a needle.

“You said earlier that you play the piano,” Jiwoo points out. “Well, I’m also the president of the music club. Why don’t you come by and play one day?”

Jinsoul grins cheekily and the redhead knows it’s because of the whole music club presidency name drop. Yes, she enjoys extracurriculars. But lots of people do. She’s not _special_.

She silently transmits that thought to an amused Jinsoul.

“Maybe,” the blonde replies, her tone laced with doubt. “I’m usually busy, you know. With sports and stuff.”

Her hand instinctively reaches down to scratch at her lucky socks.

“You’re really dedicated. It’s so admirable. What motivates you?”

Huh. Nobody’s ever asked her that before. It’s not really that simple. She’s motivated because she _has _to be. Because it’s what she knows.

“I don’t know it’s just…what I do.” Jinsoul pauses and sighs. “Who I am. I’ve always played sports. I’m the jock.” She points at her jersey. Number 7.

“If I’ve learned anything from being in here with you, it’s that there’s a lot more to you than that.”

Jinsoul shrugs.

“I guess so. But I do love it, I promise you.”

Jiwoo nods and smiles fondly at her.

“You mentioned an audition earlier,” the taller girl remembers.

Jiwoo continues nodding, the speed of her head slowing ever so slightly.

“There have been a few this year. Auditions for music schools for after I graduate.”

“That’s awesome!”

Jiwoo self-consciously fixes her bangs.

“It’s okay…no luck yet.”

“Idiots. Please don’t lose your Jiwoo spirit.” Jinsoul motions towards the picture on the girl’s shirt and smirks. “You’ll get offers, trust me. If anybody knows how talented you are, it’s me.”

“Gosh, you’re so sweet,” the redhead emotionally rasps out. “I can’t believe you feel this way about me. It makes me feel less weird for always staring at pictures of you.”

The blonde chews her lip to calm her nerves that have been out of control for hours. Her heart’s been thumping so wildly she’s become accustomed to it. A tiny doubt rests in her mind about whether the other girl feels the same way. She needs to ask; she just needs to.

“Wait so…Jiwoo…do you like me?”

By the look of Jiwoo’s face, she asked the dumbest question so far. But leaving here without confirmation simply won’t do for Jinsoul.

“Of _course_ you moron! I thought that was pretty obvious by now!”

“Oh. Dope. I like you too.”

The cheesiest of cheesy smiles spread across both of their faces at the mutual confession. Jinsoul bashfully looks away as Jiwoo plays with her own fingers. At the core of it, they’re just teenagers—to say they’re on cloud nine doesn’t really begin to cover it. Sure, they’re starving, sweaty, tired, and hungry, but they also _like _each other. They’ll never be more alive than in this moment, and an unspoken acknowledgement of this fact floats around in the lovey-dovey bubble they’ve inadvertently built around themselves.

“_Jung Jinsoul_ likes me,” Jiwoo mutters in awe, her cheeks at peak rosiness.

“Why do you say it like that?”

Jinsoul giggles at the eyeroll she receives in return.

“Because it’s kind of an achievement.”

“C’mon, don’t be ridiculous. I can’t believe you like _me._”

Jiwoo throws her hands up in mock annoyance.

“How could I not? Think about who you _are _for a second.”

“Ah…” There it is again. As much pride as she feels, disappointment creeps in the background of Jinsoul’s feelings like a dull ache. “Right well, lots of people are into the star athlete thing I guess.”

“That’s not what I mean and not why I like you, stupid.” She playfully punches the girl’s arm. “Being in here with you and learning what I’ve learned, well, it’s just made me like you more. Nobody gets to see you like this, huh?”

“Stuck in an elevator?” Jinsoul plays dumb.

Jiwoo coolly stares the older girl back into seriousness.

“Well, I guess the only other person is Sooyoung.”

As the words leave her mouth, Jinsoul grabs ahold of her cascading blonde locks and methodically puts them up into a ponytail. Oblivious to the younger girl’s awestruck expression, she scrutinizes her work in her phone screen. A slight unsatisfied grimace flashes upon her face.

It’s this whole jocky Cher Horowitz thing Jinsoul has going on that everyone sees. It’s the surface level Jinsoul. The façade. And even though she’s model-pretty, Jiwoo knows that’s not what Jinsoul sees in herself.

“It’s so funny how you’re nothing like her.”

Jinsoul hugs her knees close to her body. Her ponytail dangles around her shoulder and Jiwoo feels dizzy at the sight. Her statue right in front of her, in the flesh.

“What do you mean?” She asks confused.

“Well, Sooyoung _knows _she’s pretty,” Jiwoo points out the obvious. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“But I told you I know what people say ab—”

“That doesn’t mean you believe it,” Jiwoo says with ire. “Jeez, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and you don’t even know it. And _not_ just physically.”

It’s how earnest the redhead looks when she’s speaking that keeps Jinsoul from opening her mouth to argue.

“Remember when I was writing in my diary earlier?” Jiwoo scooches closer and plays with the blonde’s ponytail. “It was all about you.” She wraps the hair around her fingers, silky smooth and delicate it feels sliding through them. “How I couldn’t believe that after years of having the biggest crush on you I would get stuck in here with you. How I was convinced you would hate me when all was said and done.”

“No way!” Jinsoul screeches. “Moron.” She reaches forward and reassuringly tickles the chin of tank top photo Jiwoo.

It must work because the younger girl melts into a sparkling grin.

Jinsoul is bursting with so much glee she can barely think. It seems like a joke that they would pine for years, unaware of each other’s feelings. The countless times she agonized over the idea of speaking to the girl, _saying anything, _and Jiwoo was in the same boat. So dumb. They’re both so dumb.

Suddenly, an unforeseen thought about what will happen will happen when they get out pokes at her. Death isn’t an option anymore. If not for the sake of their burgeoning relationship then for the sake of Jiwoo’s future auditions that _yes_, Jinsoul plans on signing up as the girl’s personal cheerleader for.

She wonders if they’ll go on dates. Maybe Sooyoung will help her pick an outfit that doesn’t get her mocked by the redhead. A fashionista she is not. Although, getting mocked by someone who willingly wears a shirt with their own face on it probably can’t speak. She’s too cute, Jinsoul sings in her head. Too cute it’s sick.

“I wish this elevator had a bathroom.”

“Yeah. A kitchen would be nice, as well.”

“I need to pee, Jinsoul. Not settle down in here.”

“Don’t worry, penguin. We’ll get out soon. I really believe that.”

Jiwoo doesn’t take the easy route of poking fun at the girl’s newfound optimism. Nor does she object to the girl’s outdated pet name for her. She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she finds the closest thing she sees to a pillow—Jinsoul’s shoulder— and lays her head on it.

They _will _get out soon, it’s true.

Jiwoo just wonders if getting out means leaving all of this behind them.


	3. Part 3

_8:09_

It’s easy to forget you’re stuck _against your will_ when you’re distracted by a cute girl with bangs. Jinsoul can attest to this fact. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but her mind couldn’t have strayed farther from the now-passed championship game. Sure, the faces of her teammates and her coach flicker into her brain like shadows on a wall, but every time the smaller girl next to her rubs her thumb against the back of Jinsoul’s hand, her focus narrows. How could it not?

And those little noises Jiwoo makes. Like a cat purring in contentment, the blonde thinks. She feels smug for producing such a response. 

It’s only when she notices the smaller girl reach up to rub her eyes with her unoccupied hand that Jinsoul feels the atmosphere shift.

And then, as if ashamed, Jiwoo lets go of the blonde’s hand.

It’s boiling in the elevator, but the air feels ice cold and thick against the stickiness of her now-lonely hand.

Did she do something wrong? Is Jiwoo having regrets? Her hand _was _really sweaty. Maybe Jiwoo thought it was gross. But the girl wouldn’t shed tears over some hand sweat. Maybe they’re just happy tears.

But by the way the redhead is now scrambling to get up, up and _away_ from Jinsoul’s body, she guesses she can nip that optimism right in the bud.

“Jiwoo…are you okay?”

She shocks herself with how steely her voice sounds.

“I’m fine. I think I’m getting loopy,” the redhead replies with her back turned to her.

“Loopy…”

Jinsoul thinks they set foot onto loopy territory back when she fell victim to the taekwondo skills of a girl in a penguin suit.

Because Jiwoo just stands there unmoving with her arms hugging herself and seemingly staring at the wall, Jinsoul can’t help but keep pushing. It’s not like she can occupy herself with anything else. There’s no kitchen or bathroom and there’s certainly no tv room, either.

“Jiwoo, please tell me if something’s wrong. We’re in this together, remember?”

It’s a sight Jinsoul could never and would never dream up when Jiwoo turns around, face slightly pained and teardrops staining her skin. Her brain flashes back to the drops of sweat that once ran trails down the same face. Whatever she did, she just wants to make it better because kicked puppy Jiwoo isn’t a look anyone with a heart could be immune to. It hurts.

“Can I tell you something? And please don’t judge me.”

“I would never.”

Jiwoo wipes at her cheeks and considers Jinsoul’s words in tense silence. After watching the girl nervously tap her fingers on the sides of her shorts, Jinsoul decides she can’t stand being on the floor anymore. She needs to get closer again, heat levels be damned.

Jiwoo doesn’t react when Jinsoul stands one foot in front of her, her hand reaching out and then hesitating, finally coming to rest back at the blonde’s side.

She doesn’t know where her sudden emotion has come from—she’s not usually the type to cry. Perkiness is her thing. Cheeriness, optimism. That’s what people know her for. That’s probably _all _people know her for, she thinks sadly.

Figuring there’s no escape, she begins to open her mouth and let the words jumble out. Besides, she’s considerate enough to give Jinsoul _something_.

“Sometimes I feel like this school is a book,” Jiwoo begins, her voice sure and unsure all at the same time. Like she’s finally trying to articulate something she’s gone over in her mind thousands of times. “And in that book, there are main characters—people like you and Sooyoung.” Her eyes momentarily flicker to Jinsoul’s attentive face and in her eyes there’s supplication. She doesn’t just want the girl to understand, she needs her to. “And then there’s me…and I’m like…a blot of ink that isn’t supposed to be there—a misprint from the machine. Like, you notice it when you’re on that page, but the rest of the time you’re not thinking about that one inkblot, you’re thinking about the story, the characters.” Jiwoo pauses to sniffle. “Everyone else has their roles and I’m just off to the side and don’t belong.”

There’s a moment where Jinsoul isn’t sure what to say. She’s not sure if she even _should _say anything. But what she does know is that deep in her gut she feels outraged. How can Jiwoo claim such lies about herself? None of that feels fair. None of that feels—

“That’s not right.”

It spills out of her mouth like one’s truth often does. And as indignant as she sounded, Jiwoo doesn’t seem fazed. She likely expected that response.

“I know it sounds dramatic but it’s just how I feel. So…small,” Jiwoo mutters to her feet. “And that’s why this,” she adds, pointing at Jinsoul’s stomach without sparing the girl a glance, “it won’t work. As soon as that door opens, you’ll be star lacrosse player and prettiest girl in the school Jung Jinsoul again, and I’ll be that girl whose name nobody can remember, picking up trash on the side of the road.”

Jiwoo anticipates a heartbreaking emotional exchange ending in the two girls sharing their remaining time on opposite sides of the room. She anticipates that Jinsoul will come to her senses. What she doesn’t anticipate is the older girl snorting and slapping her arm like she just made a locker room joke.

“Well, Jiwoo. You are tiny, that’s true. But you’ve truly gone full loopy if you think things will go back to how they were before.”

_They will though! _Jiwoo’s mind begs to scream out. She’s sure of it. After all, she’s making the mistake that too many people often do—believing that one’s truth is the _universal _truth. But how can it be anything but? Three years of high school have taught her that the caste system hidden in plain sight is unmovable no matter what the circumstances are. To her, that’s the truth—the only truth she’s sure of at this moment.

The _actual_ universal truth is that high school politics aside, they’re both equal and both important. Jiwoo doesn’t see it at this moment, but her companion certainly has. And Jinsoul feels lucky for it. A few hours ago, and the blonde would have thought the same way. But Jiwoo has given her the gift of looking _beyond _whatever false truths they’ve been brainwashed to believe. And now, every molecule of her being wants to return the favor.

“You keep irritating me,” Jinsoul states, coating her words with a slight smile. “You keep calling me ‘star player’ and ‘MVP’ and ‘most popular girl’ and all that crap and you know how it makes me feel?” Jiwoo shakes her head. “Like I ate _way _too many dino-nuggets. Like I’m gonna hurl.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s all anybody ever sees about me! But what’s worse is it’s all I see, too. I’ve let that part of me become _all _of me and I don’t know why or how.” It’s as if she’s been sprayed with a hose the way Jinsoul feels awoken. “I would have never spoken to you.” Her head begins shaking back and forth in disbelief. “Never. All because I felt like I wasn’t supposed to. How stupid is that?”

Jiwoo shrugs.

“It’s not surprising. If I were you, I wouldn’t speak to me either.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jinsoul declares. Her hands angrily migrate to her hips. “You _would_. Because you’re a wonderful person who doesn’t let what other people say about you get to you. You’re just you. And I’m Jung Jinsoul the best athlete in the school and what else?” She asks rhetorically. “Nothing.”

“Well…if it helps, I think there’s always a way you could try to rewrite everything.”

Jinsoul grins because Jiwoo doesn’t realize what she’s just done. How she’s just fallen into her own trap.

“You’re saying that to me,” Jinsoul softly voices, “but you should be saying that to yourself, Miss. Inkblot.”

Jiwoo opens her mouth and then shuts it.

Yeah, Jinsoul got her. The blonde just smirks, self-satisfied but also genuinely thrilled that Jiwoo’s faulty logic was just disproven by the bright girl herself.

“It’s funny because to you, you’re just a blot of ink that nobody notices but to me, you’ve spread all over the pages until they’re completely soaked and bleeding through.”

Maybe it’s the poetic way Jinsoul’s words just came out or maybe it’s the reassuring tone in her voice, but despite what she wants to believe, Jiwoo has too much trust in the girl in front of her to even attempt to argue. Instead, she feels compelled to listen.

“I think life has a way of taking the plan you have for it and rewriting everything on a whim. Take our situation right now for example. I mean it’s funny—I’m the quote-unquote star player who's MIA for the big game and I don’t even care about that anymore. I should, but I don’t. I have you now. I never thought I would get to say that, but now I can. But I also think maybe we’re able to rewrite things ourselves like you pointed out. And no, not just when you’re in an elevator.” Jinsoul seals her words with a harsh kick to the metal wall next to them. Then she glances back at the girl in front of her, her cheeks starting to ache from the way she’s smiling.

The redhead is biting her lip in deep thought and the blonde has no clue what she’s thinking. She doesn’t say anything either, so Jinsoul gets right to the point. Maybe it’s what Jiwoo’s waiting for.

“Jiwoo, why don’t you and I take the book and rewrite everything?”

“So I can be more than just an inkblot you mean?”

“Look, if you wanna be a splotch of ink then I’ll be one too right next to you. But if you wanna be a main character with me then just say the word.”

It feels like she’s caught the golden snitch when a small smile materializes on the redhead’s face.

“Sooyoung might not like that.”

“Please.” Jinsoul groans. “Let Sooyoung be the side character for once in her life.”

Jiwoo’s smile grows.

“The _school_ might not like that.”

“Things need to be shaken up around here!” Jinsoul grabs the younger girl’s face and stares so deeply into her eyes it feels like she might get sucked in. “The fact that people are missing out on the coolest and cutest girl in school just because she’s a dork who jumps around in a penguin suit means it’s never been written well. But we’ll change that! Together.”

Maybe she _is _being a bit dramatic. And maybe the truth she knows isn’t the real truth, at all. It can’t be, because in her truth, Jinsoul would never be the one to propose such a thing. But god is she glad she did.

Her heart feels so full. It’s never felt that way before. With each breath comes a tight pain that soothes itself simultaneously. And the butterflies that were previously a dull flutter have started raucously banging against the walls of her stomach.

“I wanna hug you but I’m too sweaty.”

The words barely escape her mouth before Jinsoul is wrapping her up into a hug that’s probably _too_ tight for the blistering conditions. Not that either of them cares.

Jiwoo can’t help it—the tears pour down her cheeks as she settles into the hug. She feels Jinsoul’s lips press themselves into a smile against her shoulder.

“I’ve never cried with my Jiwoo energy shirt on before,” the redhead squeaks out but they both know it’s said with happiness.

“See! we’re rewriting things already.” Jinsoul tilts her head to press her face into the younger girl’s hair. It smells of shampoo and she knows it’s not the cheap drug store kind, either. This scent is different, less fruity and more…_Jiwoo._ A thought suddenly occurs to her and she pulls back with a blank face. “I’m glad I didn’t notice _her _when you were first crying cuz I might have laughed.”

Jiwoo feigns offense and smacks the girl’s arm. Jinsoul catches her hand with her own and holds on tightly.

She hopes Jiwoo doesn’t let go this time.

* * *

_8:32_

It happens right at the exact moment that intense concern over Jiwoo’s bladder pounds into Jinsoul’s mind. The girl had begun to fervently tap her ankle against the floor in that distinct, unmistakable way. The way that screams that if one doesn’t reach a toilet soon then an accident is sure to follow.

She doesn’t get but a moment to worry when the emergency light flickers off.

In the pitch-black darkness, Jinsoul feels Jiwoo’s ankle stop tapping and her body stiffen against her side.

Their heart rates pick up and their breaths jolt to a stop.

What the _hell _is happening?

Is this the moment? Will they be freed?

Or has the apocalypse really kicked into high gear and an _actual _elevator orc is about to pop out any second?

“Hey, the flashlight on your pho—”

Jiwoo’s sentence is interrupted by the clamorous sound of the dormant metal box bursting back to life and the blinding light shining into their eyeballs.

Their hands quickly move to their eyes like the sun itself is staring them down.

She knew it was getting late but Jinsoul didn’t expect it to happen _now. _Guess this electro-mechanical device cares about Jiwoo’s bladder, after all.

_Houston, we’re back! _Jinsoul cheers inside her head as she hops off the floor, pulling Jiwoo up with her.

The smaller girl stares into her eyes with a plethora of indescribable emotions pooling behind them.

But as quickly as it happens so does it un-happen when the lights shut off again and the roaring sound of the elevator’s electrical components power back down.

Where Jiwoo’s eyes just stared into Jinsoul’s lies nothing more than a black space of nothingness now.

“I guess it’s trying,” the redhead pipes up out of the darkness.

“It could be any second.” Jinsoul concurs.

Shit, it really _could _be any second.

And then the doors will open and then this will all be over!

But what Jinsoul is struck by is the fact that half of her is kind of…sad. Because for as much as she is (quite literally) dying to get out, she’s also _sad _that this saga is over. Their journey, their crisis, their _moment._ It’ll be a thing of the past. And as much as she knows she’ll make a point of never setting foot in this death trap again, she also feels a fondness for it like one would for cafeteria lunchmeat served in primary school.

She wouldn’t have spoken to Jiwoo if something hadn’t possessed her to utilize this vertical transportation device instead of her legs. If she hadn’t have gone back to get her lucky socks…

Her lucky socks…

Her toes wiggle around in her shoes in remembrance of her little purple and red buddies that have more than proven their value.

She hears Jiwoo shuffle her way over to her and loosely grab her arm. Jinsoul’s right hand slides against the metal wall to collect her bearings and she quickly gives it a quick tap as if saying _hey, I know this wouldn’t have been possible without you. _

And then it happens again.

The lights, the loud cacophonous sound of the thing powering back up, and this time the little red pixels on the buttons flicker madly. Their eyes dart over to them, unable to examine the pattern because the elevator’s third life comes to a quick conclusion.

“Well, this is fun.” Jiwoo dryly laughs.

But Jinsoul isn’t thinking about the fact that the universe if playing with their emotions. She has to do something. There’s still one more thing. And then they can leave. But not until after she does it.

The _thing._

Every sundae needs a cherry on top, right? Except she never eats the cherries. But they still need one because society would crumble without them.

So yeah, she’s gotta kiss Jiwoo.

It suddenly becomes her one mission. Jiwoo’s tugging on her arm and when the lights blast back on yet again, Jinsoul doesn’t cover her eyes. They’re narrowed in focus at her task. She didn’t get to play the game today, but she hopes she’ll still get to score.

After all, if that’s how everyone else views Jinsoul —the champion who perseveres, _dares _to take chances and shoot her shot—well, why not just buy into that just this once? Jiwoo’s still here with her now but not for much longer. She has, what, two minutes before they’re free?

_This_ game is kind of on the line. And the pressure of making this last moment perfect and meaningful for them both is bringing out a side to Jinsoul she feels more than familiar with.

Because _this—_this is her comfort zone. She may try to branch out and become more than just the jock that she’s always been later, but right now this is what she’s best at. And she’s good at it. She _thrives _on it. The clear presence of a goal and the sheer focus she attains when she’s under pressure to achieve it.

Once again, the elevator starts back up and this time it’s different. This time, there’s a sharp ding whose arrival seems more like a beep on an EKG monitor. Okay, we’re alive again. Time to look it, she supposes.

Jiwoo is looking at her with a peculiar glint in her eye but neither of them speaks. The younger girl walks over to the corner of the elevator, keeping her eyes trained on Jinsoul as she begins to quickly slide the penguin suit back on.

All the while, dings that keep repeating ring annoyingly in their ears like some sort of start-up ritual. But the lights are still on and it’s definitely been longer than 30 seconds this time.

Jinsoul waits for the girl to get the suit fully over her body and then she calmly walks over to her.

As she does, they feel a jolt in the elevator that they know means there’s some sort of movement.

Now or never.

“Jinsoul.”

Jiwoo looks at her with curiousness, like she doesn’t know why Jinsoul is so silent and why she has that strange twinge in her eyes that she’s seen many times before out on the field. She waddles up a foot to get closer to the blonde, the penguin head resting in her hands and preventing them from getting too close.

“Jiwoo.”

She must be imagining it. But no, Jinsoul’s eyes are definitely narrowing onto her lips and her heart is thumping in every inch of her body. A loud gulp coming from her own throat competes with the dinging in the background but neither of them pays it any mind.

It’s when Jinsoul’s eyes soften for a beat and gaze into hers as if asking permission that Jiwoo feels sure of what’s about to happen.

And when Jinsoul leans her head in carefully, meticulously, Jiwoo keeps her eyes open for a tad bit too long, wanting to savor the sight. The blonde has to crane her head in more than she’d probably like, but she’s not exactly picky in this moment.

Then their lips meet and both girls feel sure this is the part where they wake up.

Only they don’t and while it’s a little awkward because Jinsoul forgets to move her lips for a second, Jiwoo knows this is the best kiss she’s ever had. Because first kisses that have come as the result of years of longing and fantasizing and wishing and hoping don’t need to be perfect. They already are simply because they happen.

The whole time they’re kissing Jiwoo keeps her hands tightly locked onto the giant head like a lifeline, a safety net. Just in case she misuses her strength and crushes the lean girl in front of her for making her heart do acrobatics. Jinsoul, on the other hand, wants more, her tendency to do everything full-on creeping up on her. Her nails graze the girl’s rosy cheeks and she sighs hot breath onto the lips that she is certain she’ll never want to stop kissing.

Jiwoo starts to pull back the moment after the tip of Jinsoul’s tongue catches her top lip but not because she wants to stop. It’s because the elevator is moving.

Like, actually moving.

In the midst of their kiss, the glitchy dinging subsided and operations seem to be back to normal. Not that either of them really cares.

“Never have I ever kissed the ugliest girl alive on an elevator,” Jinsoul breaks the silence in a voice so cheeky she deserves to get smacked. Her hand shoots up and she exaggeratedly stares at it.

Despite the ear-to-ear smile plastered on Jiwoo’s face, her eyes seem to question the blonde’s absurd comment. The silence the latter receives indicates that her idea of a smooth comment wasn’t one to write home about.

“No, see I didn’t put my finger down!” Jinsoul shouts with her hand in the redhead’s face. “Cuz I haven’t done it! Cuz you’re the _cutest_ girl alive!!”

“Stop it!” Jiwoo chuckles and slaps her hand down. “Gosh, you’re dumb.”

“Yeah, for youuuu.”

Jinsoul balls her hand into a fist and holds in front of her expectantly.

Yes, she wants Jiwoo to pound it. Which the younger girl _does_ as best as she can with her penguin flippers_,_ but she also throws in an exasperated eye roll for old time’s sake.

“Dope,” Jinsoul says.

On her face is the toothiest, smuggest grin she thinks she’s ever produced.

Get stuck in an elevator and win the girl. It’s not orthodox and certainly isn’t in any issues of Cosmopolitan either of them has read but they wouldn’t necessarily think twice before recommending it. Jinsoul especially will be letting everybody she knows just how successful this whole adventure for survival turned out to be. Starting with Sooyoung as soon as she gets out.

Her brain quickly flashes back to the moment she knew she was in for it. She remembers turning around and seeing a pair of flippers reach up and pull off the nightmarishly large penguin head. And she’ll never forget the stomach-sinking, heart-fluttering, flop-sweat-inducing feeling of realizing who had been hiding under it.

Kim Jiwoo.

Wow. Fate really couldn’t have been more _altruistic, _huh?

Because now they’re standing across from each other in a bubble of bliss waiting for the new story they’re writing to begin. Their story.

Inkblot no more—everything’s been dyed with the color of Jiwoo. It’s the prettiest color Jinsoul could never dream up. Sometimes reality really _is _better than dreams.

Suddenly, a single ding rings out and the very welcomed “1” brightly shines above the door meaning it’s all over any second. Finito. Finished. The end.

But, wait.

“I still haven’t gotten your number!”

Jinsoul bites her lip as hard as she can to at least try and contain the stupid smile on her face but it’s a fruitless effort.

“I think a bathroom visit should be top of your priority list, penguin. Besides, I can give you that when I give you a ride home.”

As soon as Jinsoul finishes her sentence, the elevator doors slide open. They stare at them, entranced at the movement as if paranoid it’s all just a trap.

Not knowing what to expect, Jinsoul signals for Jiwoo to exit, elegantly presenting the open doors like a trained butler. But Jiwoo doesn’t go. Instead, they timidly walk out into the dead hallway together, hand in flipper.

As Jiwoo uses the bathroom, Jinsoul’s phone begins its buzzing frenzy. When all is said and done, she has a grand total of 27 missed calls and 139 texts. Mostly from Sooyoung.

God, she really won’t believe any of this. Like, she seriously might not. She wouldn’t be surprised if the brunette laughs in her face when she inevitably vomits up every single painstaking detail about her afternoon. But knowing Sooyoung, she’ll secretly be happy for her and the idea that she might get a reprieve from the teasing (at least for being a dud when it comes to the ladies) makes Jinsoul giddy.

On the ride to Jiwoo’s house, the two crack themselves up acting like they haven’t been outside for years. _But the trees, Jinsoul! Didn’t you think about what the trees looked like in there? I did! And look, they’re still here! I never thought I’d see the day! _Jiwoo tries her hardest to make Jinsoul laugh, the blonde giving her exactly what she wants. Along with a bundle of so many kisses, Jiwoo will need a separate diary entry just to cover them. And when the girl finally hops out of her car, Jinsoul feels like pumping her fist breakfast club style.

For a moment after Jiwoo’s gone, Jinsoul sits in reflection. It hasn’t hit her yet. Her body is still reeling from the rollercoaster she’s put it through. It takes her grouchy stomach reminding her she needs _food_ as much as she needs Jiwoo to keep on living for her to finally pull away. Her eyes linger on the girl’s house for a second or two as she does.

Once she sorts through the mountain of texts and voicemails, she’ll finally be able to process the day and begin to figure out how she’ll explain herself to her coach. She may be dead meat, but if the girls brought the team to a championship win without her then hopefully the whole thing will blow over quickly.

For now though, she’s stuck with the challenge of forcing the corners of her lips down. The whole drive home and the only thought on her brain is how Kim Jiwoo is _hers. _Her dream girl, her crisis partner, her angel who sang her way into her heart and beat her up on an elevator. A perfect ending to whatever teen rom-com afternoon the two just experienced.

And it’s only the beginning.

* * *

(The girl’s championship lacrosse game wasn’t played that day.

A mysterious schoolwide power outage resulted in the postponement of the game to an undetermined later date.

When Jinsoul found out, she texted Jiwoo for the very first time to let her know, the two then engaging in a keysmash competition that more than emphasized their amusement. Then came a string of orange hearts that Jinsoul would come to learn were the girl’s favorite. _They’re pretty like orange m&m’s _the girl would say.

It was the first of a long series of quirks Jinsoul would come to learn about her girlfriend. Quirks that no amount of fantasizing could have made her privy to. Quirks that make every interaction between them feel timely and precious.

For weeks after, Ha Sooyoung received daily screenshots from her best friend Jung Jinsoul followed by incoherent babbling of what can only be described as total lesbian gibberish. She got annoyed after the first three and even more when Jinsoul refused to stop reminiscing about those four and a half hours that “changed her life.” She also took great pleasure in whipping out the occasional joke about why penguin-human romances are wildly unethical solely to revel in the eyerolls that came from both parties.

But what neither Jinsoul nor Jiwoo knows—what they absolutely cannot know—is that to this day Ha Sooyoung very surreptitiously and devotedly makes it a rule to take the elevator no matter where she goes. She hopes that one day she’ll get lucky and find her own penguin.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading about these two little dorks. 
> 
> CHUUSOUL RIGHTS!
> 
> @grapeladyism


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